


Tommy's Girl

by Parks and Fluff (GamblingDementor)



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Assertive woman, F/M, Smut, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 19:06:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4360811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GamblingDementor/pseuds/Parks%20and%20Fluff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"So, your place or my place?"</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>He pauses and stares at her for a few seconds, as if trying to assess if she's pranking him, before deciding that she isn't and he gives her one of his goofy large grins that she always found cute.</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>"Girl! You want a ride on the Tommy train!"</em>
</p>
<p>Set just after Save JJ's. Tom has just asked Lucy out to be his date at Donna's wedding. But as it happens, they can't wait till there to start all over again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tommy's Girl

The offer to be Tom's date was supposed to be for Donna's wedding, but they do end up on a date together that very night at Tom's Bistro. It's probably a lot easier to find a place to have a date when the guy who asks you out is a restaurant owner and actually asks you out in his restaurant where you also happen to work. In any case, they catch a late night meal together after their shift, once Tom's Bistro is empty save for the two of them, and Tommy is being everything he was a few years ago, only the good parts are a lot better now, and the bad parts are forgotten and gone.

 

The swagger is still very much there (he shares a few of his future business ideas with her over the course of the meal: all amazingly ridiculous, yet some of them almost sound feasible), but he's  _actually_  pretty funny now, and definitely even more charming than he was all these years ago. The dinner together feels natural and real and if this is a rebound (she doesn't feel that it is), it's the best rebound she could have hoped for, with a guy she knows she likes, but who's also gained in maturity over the past six years, when they were apart, as well as some sort of deeper respect for her she can't quite describe in words. He makes her laugh, she makes him laugh, and overall it feels like they're on exactly the same page of a story they've just reopened.

 

Which is why, after they leave the warmth of Tom's Bistro for a late night stroll hand in hand in Ramsett Park, it feels  _ _natura__ _l_  to ask.

 

"So, your place or my place?"

 

He pauses and stares at her for a few seconds, as if trying to assess if she's pranking him, before deciding that she isn't and he gives her one of his goofy large grins that she always found cute.

 

"Girl! You want a ride on the Tommy train!"

 

"It's not really a time-limited offer," she adds, "but pick a place, please, and quick, it's getting chilly out here."

 

"Oh, erm, my place is closer."

 

"Good call," she winks at him and calls out to a cab.

 

By the time they reach his appartment building, she really hopes he gave the driver a thick tip because they've spent the whole way making out on the backseat as if they were dumb horny teenagers (well, the horny part is true). Tom's hands mostly stay on her waist or other perfectly decent places of her body. Maybe he's playing hard to catch (probably not) or being very respectful (most likely), but in any case, she's daring enough for the both of them. She's been thinking about him a lot these past few weeks (far too much to the taste of her now ex) and it feels like she is only now getting back what she always wanted for hers. So she takes it back. With full force. They've waited long enough.

 

Tom fumbles to find his keys in his coat pockets. She has to admit she's probably being quite the distraction, latching onto his waist from behind, trying to sneak a hand underneath his shirt to get a better feel of that warmth seeping through the fabric (is he nervous? Is that why he's hot like this?). The skin of his neck is as tender and soft as she remembered it under her lips.

 

"Lucy, you're..." Already struggling with inserting the key properly, he forgets whatever he had to say when she nibbles on the lobe of his ear. He was always a sucker for that.

 

"I'm  _very happy_  to be with you is what I am," she purrs against his ear and finally the door clicks open and she rushes him inside.

 

The elevator ride is  _interesting_  to say the least. Pinned against the back of the elevator, a leg wrapped around his hips, his body flush against hers, his hands stroking her thighs left bare by her skirt bunched up around her hips, he is giving it all he's got. She can feel him hard against her inner thighs and it feels great — she loves to be desired, especially by this tiny swag ball of a man. She bucks her hips, craving that contact, and he responds in kind, and they're just about twenty years too old for some semi-public dry humping, but what is she supposed to do instead, deny them both what they want? Wait until they're inside? Ridiculous. Luckily enough, the short ride doesn't get interrupted.  _That_  might have dampened the mood a little.

 

"Girl, you're so precious," Tom breathes out between kisses as she pins him against the door of his appartment.

 

She palms him through his pants and squeezes and he yelps.

 

" _You're_  precious," she snickers and that gives his kisses a new sort of hunger.

 

Keys out, door opened, lights switched on, door slammed shut, nothing is stopping them anymore. 

 

"These," she purrs against his mouth, unbuckling his belt, "are coming off."  
  
He nods frantically and she rips more than she pulls off his pants and boxers. And there he is, hard and hot against her palm, definitely as ready as she feels. She strokes him slowly, not too tight (she has no idea if he is still as  _sensitive_  as he used to, so best not risk it) and he arches into her hand, her name a moan on his lips.

 

"How about we skip the couch phase of your ritual," she suggests in a lascive voice, "we get to your bed right now, and I ride you till we both forget what's what?"

 

"Sounds... sounds awesome!" His voice breaks when she runs her thumb around his head, just under the slit. She's always liked toying with him − she is definitely going to have a lot of fun with him and his body tonight.

 

"Good."

 

His eyes widen when she shrugs off her jacket − what is to come if that is already his reaction? He kicks the pants still around his ankles, takes off his shoes, throws them away, and runs to the bedroom. With a big goofy grin, he throws himself on his bed, facing her, his back against his many fluffy pillows (she counts seven before realizing that she doesn't care how many there are right now). He claps his hands once, holds up his arms to beckon her closer and she can't help but snort — fondly, though, because she's finding him cuter by the minute.

 

"Let's get this  _started_!" He sing songs.

 

"Okay, first rule, no singing." She laughs.

 

"Oops, sorry, boo." A petname she never thought she'd miss. She can't quite keep the smile off her lips with a man like Tom treating her like this kind of special girl. Maybe this is why she likes him so much: she feels like she can do no wrong with him. Of course, that doesn't mean that she will make any ill-spirited use of that − she really cares about him. But it does take all the pressure off, knowing that she can be as direct as she wants and that not only he won't mind but he'll like it, judging by the way he's looking at her. 

 

She makes a show of taking off her skirt, and her shirt, and her bra, and everything. He looks at her like she's the most beautiful woman in the world, and she craves that. She pounces onto the bed like a predator crawling to catch her sexy little man of a prey, and he's just as ready to be her snack as she is to eat him up, because he answers to her kiss with a fervor she can only share.

 

"You missed this, huh?" His stubble is prickling her lips when she whispers against his jaw, pretty much the only thing not soft about him right now. Well, that and the other obvious one, hard against her palm when she strokes him. 

 

He nods excitedly, as if he didn't trust himself to speak. She likes that. She's missed him too, that is plain. She wasn't pining for him, not at all, she doesn't  _do_  pining, and even if this turned out to be nothing, she wouldn't, but he's been on her mind quite a lot in the past few years. Not constantly, but she's always been left with the feeling that there was more to them as an item than a break-up over his leftover feelings for his ex. There were things left unsaid. 

 

"This good, right?" she asks, but he's so hard already that she knows the answer, with the way he's pressing into her hand and grabbing her hips.

 

"Uh huh." 

 

His hands are less shaky than she'd thought when they stroke the skin of her thighs. They reach up and up and when they brush against her panties, he looks up with eyes full of hope. She nods in approval and they slip under the fabric, find her wet and ready.

 

"You've got… You've got good at this," she has to admit when what he's doing with just his thumb on her clit leaves her panting.

 

"Tommy Haverford is a fingersmith, boo," he says.

 

"A fingersmith, huh?" 

 

It's harder to keep composure when he eases one finger, two fingers inside her, makes her ride them like she would his cock, and really, why isn't it inside her yet? 

 

"How about you keep your smith fingers for later and we get to the real show?"

 

"Erm,  _yeah_!" Another one of his special Tom Haverford grins. She wants to pinch his cheeks as much as she wants to ride his dick.

 

"Got a condom?"

 

"Bottom drawer."

 

She opens it far more roughly than she should − and hopes she didn't break it. No time to check. She spots a huge box of condoms and opens it. It's filled almost to the brink. Seems about right. She picks one up, bites the wrapper open, pulls out the condom and, with what she hopes is her best smoulder, unrolls it on him. Immediately, Tom grabs her hips and pulls her against him for a kiss. She is right against him, hot, hard,  _there_ , and she is about ten times more ready than is humanly sufferable.

 

"Baby girl, I thought about this so many times," he purrs. 

 

"Now's the time."

 

She straddles him, guides him inside her with ease and they both moan out their satisfaction.  _Finally_. It's easy to get swept up in this with Tom, to get lost in this connection they share. Her hips move almost of their own accord, grinding and thrusting against him, and he feels so  _good_  inside her. She loves being on top, above him, so she can watch him closely. The way he bites into his lips, the gleam in his eyes, the way his hands grab tightly onto her hips, as if he's afraid to let him go − all that is beautiful and she doesn't want to miss a second of it. She rests her hands on his pudgy little belly that is so hot under her fingers and keeps the pace fast and hard.

 

"Lucy…" he groans and bucks his hips up against hers. 

 

"Tommy…" she moans and slams her hips down.

 

His eyes are fluttering shut and she knows from experience that he isn't going to last very long with that kind of look already. It's all right. They have the rest of the night anyway. 

 

"Touch me, Tom."

 

He slides a hand between their bodies − his hands have always been so soft − to obey her request. His thumb presses down on her, draws circles on her clit and with the rolls of her hips in the mix, this is a perfect cocktail. She feels it coming but a few seconds before it happens, and it comes down on her in all its glory. Her breath comes short, she grinds her teeth and gives a few last ample thrusts against him as she rides that out. Then Tom gasps and his back arches up towards her, and it's as beautiful as she remembered. He falls back onto the mattress like a dead weight, his arms and legs sprawled all over the place. She can still feel pulses running through her whole body, still feel the hunger inside her. 

 

"Girl, you are a tiger."

 

"I prefer lionness. They hunt for the males."

 

He chuckles and pulls her against her − Tom is a snuggle bug. 

 

" _That_ ," he says emphatically, "was amazing. You're amazing. Everything is amazing."

 

She laughs, but nods.

 

"How long till you can go again?"

 

"'Bout ten minutes."

 

"Not sooner?"

 

He chuckles awkwardly.

 

"I'm not Superman."

 

With his fingertips, he traces circles on her back, but that's far too quiet for her taste.

 

"Okay, here's what we gonna do. You go get rid of that condom. Now."

 

He jumps off the bed immediately, leaving her all the room she wants on the pillow, and runs to the bathroom. He has a cute butt from this view. Nice. He's got the cutest largest grin when he comes back.

 

"Done!"

 

"Okay, good."

 

"And now?"

 

"Now you're gonna show me how good of a fingersmith you are, baby."

 

By the time he's ready to go again, he's gotten very acquainted with her new tattoo on her inner thigh, she's gotten very acquainted with his new skills (he tells her he used to date a complete nympho and it helped him a lot on that point at least). Enough to get them going the rest of the night. They've waited six years. There is a lot to make up for.


End file.
